Don't Dream It's Over
by TPHPSW15
Summary: Riggs starts having dreams of Miranda, and he would love them if they weren't searing into his brain ruthless images of her dying. It doesn't take long for it to make him lose the last bit of strength he had.


The air in the bar was musky, smoke from past cigarettes still lingering about in the corners. It gave everything a subtle fog, like you were sitting in an old movie scene. It was after closing and the only light was the back wall illuminating the bottles on the rack and a small one pointed down at the middle table.

Riggs had his head hung low and was running his finger around the rim of the glass, deep in thought. He had spent the night doing one shot after another and had finally started feeling it. He leaned back as he poured the whiskey down his throat and turned the glass upside down on the table.

A noise came from one of the dark corners, someone watching him had shifted in their seat and the fabric from the booth made a soft squeak.

"Hello?"

The silhouette stood up and made its way over, their heels clicking on the floor. Riggs was taken aback to someone else being in the room. From the shadows stepped out Miranda, his wife. He blinked and shook his head, he didn't understand what was happening, she was suppose to be dead.

Miranda's heavenly smile looked down at him from where she stood and she caressed his cheek happily. He leaned into the embrace wanting to soak every moment of it when her hand disappeared.

He opened his eyes finding her gone from his side yet again. He looked around desperately, catching her standing behind the bar. She was leaning on the counter, her arms stretched apart, with a smile still on her face.

"Miranda," Martin whispered in awe.

A clap came from the door next to the bar, slow at first, then faster. A man walked over to Miranda, suddenly pregnant and ready to deliver any second, and placed his hand on her stomach. The man peered back over to Riggs with a suspicious smile.

Before he could react, the man grabbed a bottle and shattered it over the countertop, then using the neck he was still holding, stabbed Miranda in the stomach. She screamed for her husband and collapsed behind the bar.

"NOOOOO," Martin's voice yelled so loudly that it went hoarse. He registered something soft covering him and realization came that it was his blanket. Looking back up around him, he was in his trailer on the beach, in complete darkness, just the sounds of the waves to keep him company. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat make it stick to his cheeks and bead down his neck.

His breathing finally slowed down enough to get access to what had happened. The dream was so real and intense. He could taste the burn in his throat from the whiskey, he could hear the ambience of the light above him. The air was so stuffy that he could suffocate in it.

He got up off the couch and shuffled to the fridge. In it was an old can of rotel from when he made mexican food last week, some cheese slices, and a bottle of scotch. He made a mental note he would surely forget, to buy groceries. With the scotch in hand, he climbed into the dining room booth and curled up against the window. He took a few swigs from the alcohol and stared down at his hand, his thumb spinning his wedding ring where it sat on his finger.

Riggs put his jaw in his palm and rested his elbow on the table, then looked out in between the slivers of blinds to see the beach. The sand was blowing in the wind. His truck sat diagonally from the trailer, he could see just enough to tell that the windows were down.

His gaze wiggled it's way down from the window to the table where an ashtray with old cigarette ashes sat. He took one more sip of scotch and closed his eyes. God he missed Miranda.

The alarm went off next to Murtaugh's bed, he reached his arm behind him for the button. After listening to the ringing too long and not being able to feel the button, he slammed the clock, accidentally making it fall off the nightstand and land on the carpet with a dull thud.

Roger felt the bed shake then heard a chuckle from next to him and opened his eyes to find Trish laughing at him.

"Oh come on. It wouldn't be quiet."

"Yeah, you showed it who's boss."

Trish smiled at her husband, the bedroom lit up by the sun through the windows. Roger leaned over and began kissing Trish, he already knew today was a great day.

Crying erupted from the baby monitor and Murtaugh flipped on his back with a grunt, while Trish flopped her arms in defeat "guess who's awake."

She threw back the covers and Roger grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back to the bed, kissing her repeatedly. Trish laughed and playfully hit Roger on the arm.

"Rog, as much as I love this, I gotta get up eventually."

"Okay, fine," Murtaugh sighed as he laid back down into the sheets.

After he got dressed for the day he could hear Trish humming to Harper on the baby monitor, he couldn't pinpoint what she was singing, but he wanted to sit on the bed all day listening to her. He slipped his shoes on and made his way down to the kitchen. The house was quiet, but there was a feeling of liveliness.

"Morning beautiful children," Roger opened the cabinet for a plate, excited he shimmied over to the stove where some leftover bacon sat that one of the kids made.

"No way," Trish was halfway down the stairs with Harper in her arms and just enough vision into the kitchen to catch Murtaugh about to dig into the bacon.

"Honey, you know you can't be having bacon."

"But I love bacon," Roger lowered his shoulders sadly.

"And I love my husband alive," Trish put emphasis on the last word.

"Can't eat bacon, can't kiss my wife, what has this household come to," Roger cartoonishly swung back and forth whining towards the door to leave, and surprised when Trish turned him around to kiss him when he opened the door.

"Better?"

"Much, thank you."

"Stay safe out there, and tell Martin hello for me."

"Always do, and I will, love you honey," Roger started up the car as Trish waved bye, and he headed off to work.

* * *

The precinct was bustling with people, the elevator opened outside the office and Martin stepped out with a sniffle and rubbed the sand from his eyes. He hadn't gotten any sleep last night after the nightmare and he was feeling it. Riggs stretched as he yanked open the door and paused with his arms in the air when he noticed Murtaugh was glaring at him. He dropped his arms and strolled over to his partner.

"Hey Rog," Riggs yawned.

Roger was standing with his arms crossed gave Riggs a look, as if he was in trouble "where the hell have you been man, I've been calling you."

Martin stuttered and tried to point towards the beach where his trailer sat, but he was cut off.

"Nevermind, we have a case, and we're late."

Murtaugh took off towards the elevator and Riggs followed behind him.

Down in the garage Roger was shaking his head in disbelief, he was at Martin's trailer just last week having mexican food, he thought the guy was getting better at arriving on time.

"There something you want to say to me," Riggs puffed as they climbed into the car.

The two car doors slammed shut and there was silence for a few seconds before Murtaugh turned to Riggs, gesturing with his hands "are you ever going to show up for anything when you're suppose to?"

"Okay, I'm sorry, my phone's dead and I didn't know you called."

Murtaugh placed his hands on the steering wheel and breathed deeply "I didn't think about your phone being dead."

"I mean, I should've charged it, I was busy… watching TV," why did he say that?

Roger sized Martin up for a moment "isn't your TV broken?"

"I got a new one," that was a lie.

"Really?"

"Yeah… it's uh, LED."

"Hmm," Roger started up the car and the left for the crime scene.

Time skipped a beat and suddenly Riggs jolted awake in the car, very aware he was asleep on the ride to the subway.

"Hey sleepyhead, we're here, you have any good dreams." Murtaugh's voice came in muffled a bit, the surroundings came after. He blinked adjusting to the sunlight and saw the cop cars circled around a subway entrance.

"Uh… sure," Riggs hopped out of the car and bounced down the stairs into the tunnel.

"What do you have for us today," Roger asked putting on gloves and walking over to Scorsese.

The body was laying on the floor of the subway station, face down and blood pooled out from underneath. It was a male, probably in his 30's with dark brown hair and a very expensive watch on his left wrist.

"His name is Chad, he was found this morning, so far we think the bullet to his chest is a safe bet for cause of death."

"Must have not been here long, the subways are only closed for a few hours," Riggs crouched down next to the body and lifted the collar trying to get a good look. "There's bruising on his neck and knuckles here."

"Yeah, we think maybe he was attacked, ran in here and was shot down," Bailey and Scorsese huddled over his ipad to look at something.

"It looks military grade."

"That's what we were guessing, we'll have a better idea after the autopsy," Scorsese added.

"Hold on… he has something in his pocket," Riggs dug his hand in and pulled out a card for a dry cleaning place. "Last place he was seen," it was framed as a question.

"Good place to start if any," Roger was handed the card and took a good look at it. "We'll head over there and see if they have any knowledge on the guy."

Riggs glanced around the area and found a camera up in the corner "see if you guys can get the video from there."

"Will do," Bailey replied.

Both men yanked the gloves off and trotted back to the stairwell together. They got back in the car and made their way to the dry cleaners listed on the card.

"Okay Riggs, this is the second time you have fallen asleep in this car today," Murtaugh commented and Martin grunted himself awake from the sudden noise. "Did you spend all night watching TV?"

"... Yeah," Riggs stated, forgetting for a moment his lie earlier about a new TV, "Three Stooges was on."

"That's just like you man, you spend the whole night awake, then sleep all day," as Roger parked and continued his rant on Martin's bad habits, Martin looked down the alleyway next to the building and saw an odd spot on the ground.

"Uh, Rog," Martin was cut off.

"Listen, if you wanna mess up your sleep schedule that's fine, but don't let it get in the way of work."

Riggs made his way down the alley and Roger stopped when he noticed him going in the opposite direction.

They looked down at the spot on the concrete, it was a group of small circles, and a red brown color.

"Dried blood behind a dry cleaner's isn't at all suspicious is it," Roger glanced around the alley.

"Let's go ask the person inside about it."

There was a soft ding from the bell above the door when they walked in, it was quiet and empty inside, just the register and a few chairs. A man stepped out from behind the back sporting a black eye and a split lip.

"How may I help you?"

"You happen to visit the subway between the hours of 12 and 5 last night?"

"I haven't been to the subway in weeks, why do you ask," he looked anxious for the answer, his eyes darting to the badge on Riggs' belt loop.

"Know anyone by the name Chad, dark hair, we found this in his pocket," Murtaugh tossed the card on the counter towards the man.

"I have a coworker named Chad, he hasn't showed up today yet, why… what happened?"

"Well he was found this morning in a subway station deceased."

"...What," the man didn't seem devastated, just confused.

"Tell us, is there a reason you guys have injuries that correlate with each other?"

The man sighed upsettingly "we were robbed the other day."

Roger and Martin looked at each other, eyebrows raised ready to hear the story.

"We were closing up and this man busted in, he attacked both of us," the man lowered his collar enough to show the bruising on his neck. "He was able to get one punch on the guy, but he escaped out the back door."

"Do you know anything about the person who robbed you?"

"He had a tattoo on his wrist, I didn't get a good look at it though."

Riggs flopped his hand on the counter "anything else?"

The man shook his head.

Roger thanked the man and Riggs headed towards the back door "is this the way he went out?"

"Yeah, it just leads to an alley though."

"Oh it does, does it," Riggs gave Murtaugh a look, him reading it an understanding where this was going. Martin threw the door open and stepped lively while rolling his shoulders, he pushed his hair back and glanced down. There it was, the spots of blood from earlier, right outside the door waiting to be found yet again.

Riggs and Murtaugh took a sample of the blood on the ground and went back to the precinct to get Scorsese to check it out. They walked into the bullpen and Bailey waved them down from her desk, she had some other people with her, all of them staring at her computer.

"What do you got for us Bailey?"

"I pulled the video from the camera in the subway station, this is what I got."

The man known as Chad climbed through the closed off areas and broke in, he got halfway across the platform when he turned back around to something off frame. He began yelling and then a shot went off, Chad falling to the floor.

"Wait, there was a shot of the gun there, go back," Riggs said, his attention completely put on the screen.

Bailey rewinded it and paused it on the gun when the shot went off, the quality wasn't perfect, but good enough to tell what type of gun it was.

"That's military grade."

"I think Chad made someone very angry," Roger leaned on the desk in concentration.

"Can you do a frame by frame of the gun there," Martin pointed at the screen.

The video slowed to a crawl, the gun piece by piece showing up in the corner "Wait, stop."

"What is it," Bailey asked, Riggs looming over her.

"You can see his hand, just a little. Roger, look there."

"A tattoo on his wrist, well this is our lucky day."

"How so," Bailey eyebrows furrowed not having the full story.

"We got a DNA sample at the dry cleaner's of what we believe to be the person who robbed them a few days ago. With this tattoo, it might be the same person."

The phone rang over at Riggs' desk, he paced over to his swivel chair, jumping into it and and riding it to the end of the desk and picked up the phone "hello hello. Okay, be right there."

"Tell me that was Scorsese with the results."

"It was, let's go."

Down in autopsy Riggs and Murtaugh waited for Scorsese's run down. He took a trip around the table before he stopped and addressed them.

"He has all sorts of drugs in him, cocaine, heroin, all of it, I'm surprised he wasn't dead before he was shot."

"Well we just found out that the guy who robbed the place where he worked is the guy who shot him, maybe it's linked."

"The DNA sample you got me was inconclusive, there was dirt and other stuff mixed in."

"And I thought this would be easy," Roger sighed and went to leave.

"I have more."

He heel face turned "I like more."

"The last call on his phone was to his coworker you talked to, just two minutes before the time stamped on the camera."

"This means we get to bring him in for questioning."

The car ride back across town was quiet, just the sound of the engine and the city.

"So… hypothetically speaking, what if I lied about getting a new TV," Riggs felt he would regret coming clean, but the silence in the car beckoned him.

"Why would you lie about having a new TV?"

"Because I wasn't up all night watching TV," Riggs watched the streets go by, and as Roger went to park he saw the guy they questioned earlier walking out the back door into the alley.

"Well then what were you doing last night," Roger put emphasis on the word were, curious, the suddenly not curious "actually, I'm not sure I wanna know."

Martin opened the passenger door and leaped out the car while it was still moving "hey, it's us again."

The guy glanced over at him, sizing up what Riggs was doing back.

"Got some more questions for you, like why did you lie to us?"

That was apparently a bad idea, as he started sprinting towards the other road.

"Ah crap," Riggs took off after him, seeing him go around a corner and tailing right behind him.

He crossed the street to the opposite sidewalk and Martin tried to cut him off by heading diagonally. When he was sure he was close enough and jumped and tackled the guy to the ground, barely aware of the sirens from Roger's car coming up next to him.

"I don't know if you know this Riggs, but saying stuff like 'why did you lie' tends to make people intimidated."

The read him his Miranda rights and handcuffed him, then escorted him back to the precinct.

Roger waited behind the two way mirror with the Captain, the guy sitting at the table patiently.

"I'm surprised you haven't blown anything up yet, you either make a giant mess and nearly ruin the case. Or you guys get extremely lucky by just driving around."

"That's mostly Riggs, sometimes I feel I'm there for moral support, you know," Roger was buying time hoping that his partner would finally show up. They walked into the building together, he didn't know where he ran of to.

"Speak of the devil, man where did you go?"

Martin had stepped into the room, nearly 30 minutes after they arrived, with a bag of chips, when he saw Roger's disappointed look he froze "I was hungry."

All Murtaugh could do was roll his eyes.

Riggs pulled out the picture from the camera and pushed it across the table with one finger.

"Can you tell us from this tattoo if this is the guy who attacked you two in the store."

"I think so, it kind of looks similar. Look I didn't do anything, why am I here."

"If you didn't do anything, then why did you run when we showed up, does it have to do with the phone call you had with Chad right before he died."

Riggs chuckled behind Roger "Chad… had… it rhymes."

Roger ignored Riggs "is there anything else at all you remember that could help us."

"Chad kept showing up to work with these super expensive things."

"Like the watch."

"Yeah, I asked him about it and he kept telling me that he just got another job that paid well. Then the night we were robbed the guy said something about if Chad went to the cops he would regret it, Chad looked terrified. He finally told me that he was testing drugs for these people, I told him to tell the cops anyway, I guess it was a bad idea."

"And the phone call?"

"He called me saying he was being chased by the guy from the other night, I lost the call and I didn't know what to do."

The two partners walked back into the other room where the Captain remained waiting for them.

"Now we just have to find these guys who are running the drugs."

Before more was said, Riggs barged back into the interrogation room and spun the chair around to sit in it backwards "do you perhaps know the number for the guy Chad had in his phone."

"He said that he didn't know his real name so he put him down as Jack or something, that's all I got."

"Thanks, you've been a big help," he got back up and left, passing Roger in the hallway.

* * *

The air was clean and crisp. Riggs opened his eyes and found himself in his old house, the night was quiet, silence filling the space in every nook and cranny, except for upstairs. Martin ran his fingertips over the fabric of the couch, taking in every thread. He knew this dream. He had not only had it before, but he had also lived it. The light creeping from the second floor spilled down the stairs and into his face. It looked so pure among the darkness and shadows of the couch he sat upon.

He stood up hesitantly, feeling the floor creak underneath his feet, he wanted this dream to last him a lifetime, but to get there, he had to go upstairs. Step into the light, even though he knew where it led.

He ran his hand over the railing, mouth agape and eyes hopeful. The sound got closer, running water of a shower. Riggs already felt the chills in his back from exuberance, the numbness in his limbs.

He pushed the door open, the bathroom drenched in peaceful white, a figure in the shower he thought he would never see again. Martin froze for a moment, his hand reached for the handle, did he want to go through with this. The glass was pulled back and there Miranda stood, eyes focused on him, her smile melting his entire being and sense of self.

"Join me," her hand went out towards Riggs, her expression gleeful.

"Always," Riggs pushed past her hand and took her whole into his arms.

He could feel the water seeping through his clothes, her skin up against his, her breath under his. He held her tight, refusing to ever let go, and he gently swayed with her, taking in the precious seconds. He could spent a thousand days in this room, with her next to him. It was like waking up every single morning to a field of flowers, the steam around them made him able to breathe again.

"I love you baby."

"I know."

Riggs saw something dark flash by in the corner of his eye. He panned over to the drain, the water leaving from their bodies, was blood red.

"No… no, no, no."

Miranda exhaled and went limp in his grasp, Riggs shook her hoping for a reaction, but her eyes remained closed. He inhaled after her shakily, his sight growing weary and wet.

A roaring crash came from somewhere above him and he darted his eyes around to find the source, but just white air and the sound of water rushing down his back answered him. When he looked back down, the left side of her face was covered in gashes and scars, blood gushing from them.

"MIRANDA!"

Riggs jerked back to consciousness, nearly hyperventilating. His hair hung in his face, strands blocking parts of his view towards the window. He ran his thumb gently over the ring, using it to calm himself down, it was right where he left it on his finger. Martin felt a bead of cold sweat slide down the nape of his neck, he used it to ground himself with the knowledge that it was just a dream. If he had to go through another one of them like that, he was sure he would go crazy.

The table across the trailer sat a bottle of liquor he contemplated for a while, then deciding to get up on shaky legs and drop into the booth. He dragged the bottle to him, finding his phone behind it. The black screen stared at him, whispering to him to call Roger.

The absolutely last thing he wanted to do now was explain himself to Murtaugh. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that if he started talking about the last few days that he wouldn't stop. The idea of spilling to his partner of all his flaws and failures was impossible to grasp.

Riggs found himself holding the phone in the palm of his hand anyway, his finger hovering over Roger's name. Relieving pressure of the nightmares was just button away. His eyes wandered down one contact and caught the name, Ronnie Delgado. With that he launched the phone across the room, hearing a smash when it hit the wall.

* * *

That day the bullpen was quiet, the initial start of the case was over, it was a matter of finding the guy responsible now. Roger sat at his desk, taking a break from all the paperwork with a sandwich. Riggs was doing the same thing, except instead of a sandwich, it was a nap.

He licked his lips of the savory sauce on his lunch and read over some records. He underlined some statements that seemed useful and took another giant bite.

Then there was a grunt.

Murtaugh peeked up at his partner, among his boots being propped up on the edge of his desk and him leaning back in his chair, his face was contorted in what looked like pain. Roger had called him out on sleeping everywhere lately, it was clear now that he wasn't sleeping at home, because instead of getting something to eat when all day he had complained about how he was starving, he was now asleep.

Riggs grunted again, grimacing as his head lolled to the other side.

"You okay man."

There was a beat before Martin shot up, dropping his feet off the desk and looking wild eyed.

Roger was taken aback "what just happened?"

Martin didn't even acknowledge his partner was speaking to him, he just marched right past him. He rode the elevator to Maureen's floor and nearly broke the glass door opening it. He stomped in, and realizing she wasn't there he did a circle of the room.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself. One of the very rare times he actually needed her. He knew it wasn't her fault if she didn't happen to be in her office when there were no appointments. It still upset him nonetheless.

Martin strided past Roger once again, making his way over to the coffee machine in the break room. He leaned up against the wall waiting for it to finish brewing, his head in his hand, he wouldn't tell anyone this, but this was his tenth cup of coffee of the day, and it was barely past noon. It wasn't working, considering he fell asleep at his desk. At this point he just about refused to sleep at all, especially after giving Roger a front row seat. Thankfully the dream hadn't gone too far, he wasn't into a deep sleep yet, and was aware that something was starting to happen and he jolted himself awake.

Riggs grabbed the styrofoam cup and watched the cream swirl around in the dark color. He checked around him to see if anything was near him or watching, then he plucked the flask from his boot and dumped it into the coffee.

Riggs walked back to his desk, he tried to ignore the way Roger stared at him. That expression telling him that he could talk to him about anything, it just made him embarrassed even more than he already was. He plopped back into his chair, his face not coming up from his work, he just focused on the papers in front of him. After a few long seconds, he felt crushed by the loudness of Roger's worry.

"I found out which contact on the phone was our killer," Bailey suddenly said, Martin wasn't sure when she had come up to them, but he was glad that she interrupted both his and Murtaugh's thoughts.

"Who is it," Roger asked, his attention leaving his exhausted partner.

"There's no Jack, but there's a John, and I checked messages and phone calls between all the contacts that start with J, this is the most plausible one."

"Is there an address for this said 'John'?"

"Here you go," Bailey handed over a paper she printed with all the information they needed, including a much appreciated warrant.

The two headed to the address, if the man was there, they could have this case solved by dinner.

"So we are having brisket tonight for dinner, if you would like to come, you can," Roger parked in front of the house and shut the car off.

Riggs opened the door and started to get out, he hesitated for a moment "is this one of those dinners where Trish invited me and you are just kinda going along with it."

"No, this is one of those dinner that I just invited you to now, but if you want to be like that then you don't have to come."

"Well thank you Rog, I would love to come over for dinner tonight, but I think I'll pass on your charity."

Roger stopped halfway up the steps "what?"

"I'm just saying, I don't think it's a coincidence that you inviting me to dinner tonight comes right after you being concerned for my well being."

"What's wrong with me being concerned for your well being," Roger started to huff a little.

"Nothing, I just want to be invited to dinner once because you love my company, and not because you feel sorry for me."

"In that case, don't come to dinner tonight, don't come to any dinner actually, because God forbid I try to cheer you up by having a good time, I'll make sure not to make that mistake again," Roger went past Riggs and up to the door, knocking a few times then ringing the bell.

Some time went by, then Riggs knocked as well "LAPD, we have a few questions for you."

Still no answer, Martin and Roger readied their guns and kicked the door down together, raising their weapons in the air, ready for anyone to attack.

"Clear," Roger shouted from the kitchen.

"I'm clear over here too," Riggs added from the master bedroom.

They met back in the living room, Roger putting his gun back in his holster, Riggs still holding his and using it to scratch his back.

"How long do you think they've been gone," Riggs gestured, shaking the gun around the room.

"I don't know, could've left a long time ago, considering Mr. Chad was threatening to talk with the police," Roger roamed around the room, searching for any clues to where the man went when he noticed Riggs yawning while still holding the gun, "man, put that away, you're gonna poke an eye out."

"Aw, Rog, your still worrying about me."

Murtaugh just scoffed and stepped back outside.

Martin cocked his head to the side, seeing something under the coffee table. He crouched down and reached over, bringing up a small orange pill bottle. The name read on the description was 'Ivan', and he assumed that might be the real name of the man they were looking for. The name of the pharmacy was on the lid of the bottle so he brought it with him.

He stopped at the door of the house, still gazing at the pills within the orange container. The thought was fleeting and left his mind the second it arrived.

"I found something back there," Riggs called out to Roger who was getting back in the car.

"Pills?"

"Pills with the name Ivan on them, and the pharmacy where they were bought."

Just then Murtaugh's phone rang, Captain Avery on the other line waiting to hear if they had the suspect in custody.

"Hey… no, he wasn't here, but we found a bottle of pills prescribed to an 'Ivan'... yep, already ahead of you, we were about to go over there… okay, thanks."

Roger hit end call and turned the car back on "you getting in?"

Riggs who had zoned out a moment ago came back to reality "yeah, of course."

They drove to the nearest pharmacy which was just a few blocks away. Roger came up to the counter and held the bottle up the woman with his badge "hello ma'am, I'm Detective Murtaugh with LAPD I was wondering if you helped the man who bought these," he handed the pills over.

She scanned over the pills, checking the information "no sir, but the computer here says that my coworker did, he's here today would you like me to go get him."

"Yes please."

She disappeared behind the back wall as Roger stood there twiddling his thumbs, he turned around to see what his partner was doing and he was nowhere to be found.

"Dammit, where did he go," Roger whispered.

"How can I help you sir," an older man had come over, the girl standing behind him.

"Yes, is there a possibility that you remember the man who purchased these," Roger pointed to the container still sitting on the counter.

"Let me see," he picked them up and examined the bottle "I might, he was a dark haired fella, lots of tattoos I believe."

"Was there a tattoo on his wrist?"

"Most likely, what I remember most was that he got a call to meet someone, had a very loud argument with them right here," the man gestured at the window he stood behind.

"Did you catch anything about what he said?"

"Something about being late on a delivery, I was trying to not pay attention, but he bought this bottle today just a few hours ago, so I imagine he isn't too far ahead of you."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Roger trudged back to the door, he saw the top of Riggs' head peering through the window from the parking lot.

Riggs sagged against the brick wall of the pharmacy, his head hung low, he could feel his body shaking from the caffeine intake. He took a few deep breaths, difficult at first, then easier. His vision had begun to swim when he tried to go inside, then a splitting headache had accompanied it. He rubbed his eyes trying to regain balance and make the world stop spinning when he heard someone clear their throat.

"You wanna tell me what's going on here."

Roger had his arms crossed, his mouth in a frown.

"You see, what happened was-"

"No lies Riggs, tell me the truth. You look like your about to fall over out here."

Riggs ran his tongue over his teeth, frustrated "I had a headache okay, it's no big deal."

"I think it is a big deal when I come out here and you're nearly panting," Roger almost yelled.

"You want to invite me to dinner again so you can grill me for things that aren't you business in the comfort of your own home."

Roger kept himself composed "I understand that you are sleep deprived and that's why you're acting like a cranky brat, but I'm just trying to help."

"A cranky brat, that ought to make me open up," the sarcasm begun dripping from him.

"Could you stop acting like me being nice to you means I'm trying to force you to tell me your life story."

"You know what, I'm walking back to the precinct," Riggs strutted off down the road.

Roger groaned as he got in the car, he coasted up behind Riggs and tried to keep next to him as he rolled down the passenger window "Riggs get in the car, you're being stupid, it's going to take you hours to get back to the office."

"Good maybe then I'll miss dinner," the last word was said a whiny voice.

"If you get in the car I promise I will leave you alone."

"Okay," Riggs answered happily and hopped into the seat.

* * *

The bright sky was lit up just perfectly that the sun on the horizon made every outline glow from behind. Riggs felt the warmth of the daylight on his skin as he sped through town in his truck. He could hear the other cars and smell the beautiful flowers sitting next to him. The truck pulled up to a red light, he breathed in the morning air, glad to be alive.

His vision started cutting in and out, like it was glitching. One moment he was in his truck, the next it was distorted and white. Riggs heard a calming voice, familiar and safe. It was Miranda.

"It's okay baby," she said "it's all going to be okay."

She was sitting in the driver's seat of their old car, he didn't see any distinct roads or buildings surrounding them, just bright light outside the windows of the vehicle. He reached over to feel her stomach, his heart heavy, when he heard a crash.

He didn't see anything, nothing in sight to confirm that was sound was even real. The moment twisted again, twinkling lights shining in lines, dancing around. Keeping him from seeing. The glass in the car shattered, spraying broken pieces into his lap, before he could register what happened there was a scream.

Miranda lay up against the steering wheel unconscious, her face towards him. Riggs couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he couldn't even breathe. Blood slowly ran from her head, landing on her legs, glass was littered over her body, leaving cuts and scrapes on every inch. Riggs felt he was there to watch, just sitting next to her in the car, he couldn't grab her, he couldn't hold her.

Her eyes opened and gazed back at him, she smiled happily. The white of her eyes turned red and blood began to seep out. Her smile died away and she parted her lips, red sliding down her jaw and neck.

Riggs sprinted from the car, tripping as he left the door opened behind him, he felt nothing as he hit the road, he fell to his knees and rubbed a hand over his face, sand getting in his eyes.

Sand?

He touched the ground and felt the grains fall between his fingers. He focused on the sound of the ocean in front of him, finally seeing the water crash on the beach. He glanced behind him, his trailer right where it was before, the front door wide open. Excessive noise filled his ears of glass continuously shattering, he closed his eyes tight and shook his head "stop, stop it."

His voice broke, but he didn't care. The night sky and the ocean couldn't judge him if he cried, but they couldn't bring him solace either.

Martin stood up on unstable legs and trekked back to his trailer one baby step at a time, he balanced himself on the wall as he grabbed the handle to the fridge and grabbed the first bottle of liquor he saw. Before he could mentally debate if it was a bad idea or not, he started chugging.

He wasn't even drunk yet, but the tremors in his hands were so bad that he accidentally dropped it, the sound of the it breaking when it hit the floor nearly made him whimper.

The sound of Miranda screaming hit him again, he wanted rid of it in his mind, he threw his head back into the refrigerator, dulling all the noises.

The room was spinning, and he concentrated just enough to make out his phone with the broken screen sitting on the table, just like every night. He took it immediately, pulling in trembling breaths.

"Riggs it is two o'clock at night, what could you possibly be calling for?"

What was he doing he thought to himself, he just called Roger who had a family at dead night.

"Are you there?"

Martin shut his eyes trying to block out the tears. He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared.

"I know we had our disagreements earlier, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right," the background of sheets rustling barely came up on Riggs' radar, he heard whispering. This meant he woke up Trish, and that made the guilt even worse.

He hung up the call and tossed the phone back onto the booth table. He slid down the wall until he was sitting and laid his head on his arms, his whole body quaking.

Roger laid in bed, Riggs only called him a little under thirty minutes ago, but he couldn't sleep. It wasn't rocket science to know his partner ringing him up at 2am was a bad sign. He had just sat there with the phone in his hand listening to Riggs' heavy breathing. It made Trish sit up and ask what was going on, but to be honest, even Roger had no idea. However, something told him he needed to stay awake anyway.

The street light peeked through the window, the only part of his room that wasn't dark was the piece it was hitting. The occasional car would drive by, Roger refused to look at the change in time from when Riggs called, he knew it would only make him concerned.

He heard a soft rapping noise from downstairs, a knock at the front door, he prepare himself mentally, and sprung from the bed, going down to answer it.

"Hey Rog, I know it's super late, but can I have a go at some of that brisket," Riggs made a beeline for the kitchen, not even giving Roger a chance to let him in, he almost pushed him out-of-the-way to go through the door.

Murtaugh would be angry any other night, but something felt off now. It wasn't just that Riggs was more closed off than normal, or that he was obviously sleep deprived beyond belief. It was the way he sat at the breakfast table. The dark bags under his eyes were more prominent than earlier when he was with him, and his eyes were almost glassy, like he wasn't all here emotionally.

They sat in silence for a while, Roger at a loss for what to say. He got out the leftover brisket from dinner that night and began to heat it up. His partner shifted uncomfortably in the chair, his hair had fell in front of his face in wisps, and he rubbed his hands together, Roger realizing just how badly he was shaking.

"Can I get you some tea," it was the only thing he could think of, "caffeine free though."

"Uh… yeah, that would be great."

He warmed up some water for tea, deciding to make enough from himself as well, when the food was ready, he could tell that Riggs was about to speak.

Both of them had sat there in silence, each one knowing they were only waiting for Martin to discuss the very large elephant in the room. He figured it was as good a time as any to finally explain.

When it seemed like the other man was opting out of saying anything, Roger returned his attention to putting the brisket on a plate.

"I'm having really bad nightmares."

There it was, Roger stood completely still, afraid that if he turned around or even glanced over, he would scare Riggs off.

"There not normal nightmares either. In them, I see…" there was a slow exhale "Miranda, being killed… in gruesome ways."

Roger continued to set up the plate and begin pouring the water into a mug, he didn't dare talk yet.

"I don't know if it was the overload of caffeine in my system from today or what, but I almost didn't wake up from the last dream tonight."

He gave it a few seconds, letting Riggs have a chance to explain what he meant "what happened," he asked calmly when he didn't keep going.

"Um… I ran on the beach and didn't realize it at first. When I went back in the trailer I was hearing glass shattering," Roger did not just hear what he thought he did "... and screaming."

He did. Riggs' voice cracked, with his head still down, he couldn't tell if he was crying or not, but he had never heard his partner sound like that before.

Martin took a sip of the tea, his hands still jittering along with most of his body.

"It's gonna be okay," Roger tried to sound reassuring, he wasn't good with this sort of thing when it came to people who weren't his children. He hoped he was helping by just listening.

Riggs finally lifted his head from the counter, he was definitely crying, his eyes were red and Roger didn't see any tears fall, but he saw the tracks that the earlier ones made.

After drinking the tea and eating some food, Roger put the dishes in the sink and saw Riggs desperately trying to keep himself awake by blinking every few moments when his eyelids drooped and his jaw started to slip out of his hand.

"Hey Riggs, don't worry about going back home, you can stay here for the night, I'll get some sheets for the couch, okay."

"I don't want to go to sleep."

"I know, but I'll be right upstairs if you need me for anything," Roger was doing his best, it looked like it was working.

"Being here won't bother the kids."

"RJ and Rianna are away at friend's houses, the only people in this place other than me and you is Trish and the baby."

"Okay," Riggs was exhausted and defeated, but he was coming around to the idea of trying to sleep.

Roger laid a sheet down on the couch, then put a blanket on the end, he fluffed a pillow, tossing it on the other side and gestured to the makeshift bed. Riggs sat down gently and scanned the room, making a mental note the best he could that he was in Roger's house and that everything was fine now. He fell on the rest of the couch and drifted off almost instantly.

It wasn't even thirty minutes later, that Roger shot up in bed, feeling Trish spring into coherence next to him. His mind didn't have time to process the noise they heard that woke them up before it was going again. Roger felt his heart both rise to his throat and drop to his stomach.

If it weren't for the walls, it would've been clear as day. The screaming they could hear from the living room had Roger scrambling from the bed and to the door. He skipped steps on the stairs and rushed to the couch where having to take in the scene of Riggs thrashing and shrieking made him panic.

Trish remained at the top of the stairs, giving them space, but also worried about their friend, when Roger had came back to bed he told her what Riggs told him, but she underestimated how bad the nightmares were, and by the looks of it so did Roger.

"Riggs, Riggs wake up," Roger didn't want to shake him awake, but he felt shouting at him might not work either.

"Come on, wake up," he settled for just squeezing his shoulder.

It did the trick, but then the next thing to deal with was that he wasn't awake mentally. He rolled off the couch and scattered, running from Roger.

"It's okay, it's okay," he raised his hands in surrender.

Riggs stopped and trembled violently, he clearly was not aware it was Roger who was in front of him, little alone that he was trying to calm him down.

"I didn't want to sleep," he mumbled eyes dashing around the room, but not taking any information. He jumped up and ran to the front door, Roger quickly held him back from being able to leave. Riggs sunk to the floor hyperventilating.

"Look at me," Roger had learned what to do if someone was having an intense flashback, he treated it like one, praying that it would get them somewhere. He grabbed both sides of his partners face and stared directly at him "look at me."

"... Rog?"

It had only been a few seconds, but Roger had never felt time last so long. He let out a breath of relief, a weight lifted off him.

"It's okay."

Something went off in Riggs' head that broke him just a little more because he started crying, obviously embarrassed he was holding it back, until he clicked into staring off into space again.

"Stop… stop, stop please," his hands covered his ears, Roger knew from what he explained earlier that he must've been hearing the dream playing over in his head, and he couldn't escape it. He slammed his head against the front door and only did it twice before Roger grabbed him and just hugged him. Honestly, it was his last ditch effort, but it worked.

Roger's eyes panned up to Trish still perched by the stairs, her expression unreadable, but he knew she was just as terrified as he was.

* * *

He woke up that morning ready for another day of work and came downstairs to see Riggs gone. He had sat with him last night until he felt normal again. After what they went through, he probably would've left early if the roles were reversed.

He called his partner anyway, just to let him know that last night was okay, he wasn't angry with him, just worried.

When he didn't answer it concerned him a little, but he wanted to give him space too, so he headed off to work on his own.

"Hey Murtaugh, we tracked down where this Ivan guy is, we have him in a building in downtown now. Do you want to go get him.?"

"Hell yeah I do, where's Riggs though, I don't want to take him into custody without him."

Bailey and everyone exchanged glances "he hasn't come in."

"Oh. That's fine."

"That's fine, any other day you would be pissed that he's running late, what gives."

"Nothing, it's nothing. Before we go arrest this guy I'm going to make a phone call," Roger pulled out his phone from his pocket and walked into the hallway. It was the second time he got a voicemail on Martin's cell.

"I guess he's not coming in today," he said to himself, bummed that he would going after the suspect alone. He came back into the bullpen and marched up to Bailey "ready to go."

"Alright, guys let's roll out," she pushed back her chair and gestured to the people in the room who would go with them as backup just in case.

The takedown was easy, almost too easy. Roger rolled up with an army of other cop cars to the building and stormed it, their warrant desperately waiting to be shown at a moments notice.

Ivan and his buddies were running drugs, it was like Christmas for the LAPD, all the narcotics were confiscated and locked up into evidence. The man they were looking for was in the back, he cussed everyone out in a language Roger didn't know, he only figured it was cussing because there was venom spitting from his words. He was dragged away yelling and fighting.

It was pretty easy to ID him once they got him back to the precinct. Murtaugh like everyone else loved when a case was wrapped up. It took them a few days, glad it didn't take a week or month, Roger called Riggs again to tell him the good news, getting the machine for the third time.

At this point it was the evening and Roger couldn't hold back his distress thinking something was wrong. Although, he also didn't want to push his friend and make him feel smothered, he was at a loss here.

He took the elevator and came out on Dr. Cahill's floor, walking up to her door and knocking politely. She turned around and beckoned him in.

"What can I do for you?"

"It's about Riggs, I need your professional opinion," she waited for him to elaborate "last night was… a bit complicated, and I need to know what I should do."

"May I ask what happened last night?"

"Um… he had a nightmare that left him, struggling I guess would be the right word, struggling to keep touch with reality, it shook him up real bad."

Cahill shifted in her seat "how is he today?"

"I don't know, he left before I woke up this morning, and he hasn't answered any of my calls."

Roger could've sworn he saw a flash of terror on Maureen's face "do… do you think?"

"Did he say or do anything last night that might imply he would?"

Murtaugh racked his memory of last night, he freaked out, he cried, then he sat with Roger on the sofa. He was about to tell Cahill no when it popped back into his brain, he had gotten up to make himself coffee and barely heard Riggs whisper something.

"He, he said… 'I need everything to stop'."

"Go, go now."

Roger sprinted from the room, he didn't even trust the elevator to go fast enough. He jumped stairs racing to the parking garage. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, but he didn't care. He peeled the car out and got back on the phone, the voicemail picking up once more.

"If this is just because your phone is dead then I swear to God Riggs," he tossed the phone to the passenger seat.

Riggs' truck was parked outside his trailer just like everyday, the sun setting on the horizon, making the beach orange. Murtaugh took a few deep breaths, and climbed out, his chest pumping.

"Riggs, you better answer me when I knock on this door or I'm kicking it down," he shouted running up to the front steps. He banged on the door window and the door itself, gave it a few seconds, wiggled the handle finding it locked, then knocked again.

"Dear Lord, please," he murmured and braced himself. He kicked at the door, not budging til busted open.

The first thing he saw was the couch, blankets and liquor bottles strewn across it. The floor in front was also covered in more alcohol, each one empty to the last drop. His heart went from skipping beats to stopping all together when he saw Riggs laying face down next to the booth, not moving.

* * *

Martin was drunk by noon. He just wanted to drown, he wanted to reach the bottom of the liquor bottle and have last night completely wiped from existence, but with every drink, he just felt more guilty. The exact moment he woke up on Roger's couch that morning, the night before came back, and he didn't like himself for putting his friend through that.

Two hours later Riggs had finished off every glass in his trailer, he couldn't stand anymore and he couldn't think.

He stood up to find himself in another dream, the dream of Miranda in the shower. The opaque white steam flowing through the air blocking out the bathroom walls until it was just white light. Miranda was standing there, no longer having a shower, just holding her hand out and looking right through him to his soul.

"Join me," she phrased it as a question, as if this time he would decline. He told her he would always join her, now matter what.

But he found himself not reaching back. He was confused.

"Riggs stay with me."

"What was that?"

Miranda pressed her hand against his chest her other hand slowly wrapping around his fingers, twisting his ring in circles.

"DON"T DO THIS TO ME," the disembodied voice yelled at him hopelessly.

Roger had turned Riggs over, his face was ghostly pale, his breathing was barely there and his skin was freezing. He already knew it was alcohol poisoning before the bags under his eyes and lips began turning blue.

"Yes, my name is Detective Murtaugh with the LAPD, my partner has alcohol poisoning, I'm not sure the specific amount he consumed, but his breathing and heart rate are already affected and he's unconscious," Roger did the best he could to sound comprehensible, but he was pretty sure he ran some of the words so fast that you had to just piece it together. "His trailer is parked on the beach near the cove, you'll see a tan 4 door car and an old red and beige ford truck."

Roger flung the phone without hanging up away from him, he wanted to focus on Riggs, but didn't hang up so they could trace the phone call, just in case.

Miranda grasped a handful of Riggs's shirt, she cupped his face. He placed his hand over hers, closing his eyes and embracing it. He shook his head.

"Somethings wrong, I feel it."

"Please, please stay with me."

"Rog?"

Riggs could hear sobbing, he didn't see it, but he knew it was there, Miranda gazed at him, hearing nothing.

"Oh god, oh my god, Riggs."

"He's… he's crying," Martin was suddenly aware what was happening, it hit him all at once, why his partner was crying, and where Miranda would be taking him. "Wait, this was a mistake… I don't want to do this."

"Their almost here, listen to my voice."

"I am listening Rog, where are you?"

"I'm right here, it's okay."

Riggs looked around him, Miranda walked back into the white light, he stayed behind, nothing in the distance, just light "I don't see you."

"Open your eyes for me, I'm right here," Roger was holding Riggs' shoulder, he was in and out of it, saying things that made no sense, the slurred speech made it almost impossible to understand.

Martin opened his eyes, blurring in the corners and darkness creeping in, swallowing everything. Roger was a wreck, barely containing himself.

Roger stared down at Riggs, he was finally awake, his pupils blown wide and not focusing on anything. And just as quickly as his eyes opened, they shut again and his head fell to the side.

"No… no, no, no," Roger shook him and it did nothing. He watched helplessly and his chest didn't rise again. He placed finger on his neck, his pulse disappearing.

Just as he began compressions he heard the sirens, it was the best noise in the world. The EMTs ran into the trailer, pushing Roger out-of-the-way, and hooking him to oxygen, taking him away instantly.

A few hours later Trish found Roger sitting in a chair in the waiting room, bobbing his leg, anxious to hell. She didn't even say anything, she just sat with him and rubbed his back supportively. After some time passed and they still didn't hear word, she finally pulled her husband's face to hers.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"I don't know, on one point he was almost gone when I got there, but he also…"

"What baby," Trish asked, Roger's expression one of bewilderment.

"He said… things, things that made me think… I don't even think he was speaking to me."

"What did he say?"

"He said 'this was a mistake, I don't want to do this'. I wanna believe it's what I think it means."

"I think it is, I think he's going to be okay… will you?"

"If he makes it through I will," Roger bolted up when the doctor made their way over to them.

"He's going to be okay," they paused for Roger and Trish to have a small celebration in relief "but he won't be conscious for a while, until he wakes up we don't know if there's internal damage we can't detect. You can see him now if you want."

The fog surrounding Riggs' mind cleared away, he heard a consistent beeping sound, followed by an intercom. The bright lights made him squint, but he saw Roger perched at the end of his bed. The sickly smell of cleanliness attacked Riggs' nostrils, he knew exactly where he was.

"Take it easy, you've been out for almost a week."

"You couldn't pay me to do that again."

"I'm really glad you didn't succeed," Roger changed his tone, wanting to tread carefully "while… while it was happening, you said it was a mistake. Did you mean it?"

"Of course I did."

"May I ask what changed your mind?"

Riggs thought for a second, back to the dream, he almost went with Miranda, but what stopped him was "would you be angry if I said you."

"No."

It was a peaceful moment between the two, neither needed to say anything more on the subject.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"A lot better than earlier."

"Good… WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!"

"Glad to see you too Rog."


End file.
